


Last Orders

by 100demons



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fourth Shinobi War, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: Time is a funny thing, he thinks. For seven years, Kakashi lived in Minato’s shadow, bled for him, killed for him, fought for him. For fourteen years, Kakashi stood in front of Minato’s grave, remembering, aching, loving. Kakashi drags his gaze up, the weight of twenty one years heavy on his chest, to meet his dead sensei’s eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [V_eritas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_eritas/gifts).



> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and support! I truly appreciate it! And so many apologies if this is inconsistent with canon, I pretty much speed-skimmed the last chapters of Naruto, so there may be a ton of inconsistencies here......so sorry ;-;

There’s a comforting familiarity about this, standing by Minato-sensei’s side, as the war comes to a close around them.

“I like the way this ended much better than the last one,” Kakashi says, as both his eyes start to sting and grow wet; he doesn’t even have the excuse of Obito’s eye to blame it on any longer. Rin is dead, Obito is gone, and Minato-sensei is ending another war, as they all walk the same, well-worn paths over and and over again, blood washing over the past, present, and future. “For one, I’m not lying half-dead in a field hospital.”

“No, just half-dead in another dimension,” Minato-sensei says, the slight curve of his mouth sliding sleekly like a dagger between Kakashi’s ribs. “Well, at least I had arms to sign the peace treaty back then.”

Kakashi half chokes on a wet laugh, his breath hot against the heavy mesh of his cloth mask.

Minato-sensei makes a small, pleased noise, deep in his chest. “I’ve still got it,” he says, eyes glinting.

“I think, if anything, dying made your sense of humor worse.” Kakashi clears his throat, ducking his head away to look at the ground. Distantly, through the tears, Kakashi can make out small white flakes of paper drifting steadily onto the ground, trailing from the edges of Minato-sensei’s slowly blurring outline.

“Kakashi-kun,” Minato says, quiet. “Would you look at me?”

Kakashi can’t.

“Please?”

Time is a funny thing, he thinks. For seven years, Kakashi lived in Minato’s shadow, bled for him, killed for him, fought for him. For fourteen years, Kakashi stood in front of Minato’s grave, remembering, aching, loving.

Kakashi drags his gaze up, the weight of twenty one years heavy on his chest, to meet his dead sensei’s eyes. They’re a clear, perfect black, the color of shadows dappling over still ocean waters, perfectly preserved at age twenty-eight.

“I’m glad I got to see this.” Minato-sensei jerks his chin up. “We’re the same height now, you and I.”

And so they are. Kakashi is no longer looking up, Minato-sensei is no longer looking down. Their shoulders brush against each other, their shadows now the same equal length.

Minato-sensei looks as if he stepped out of an old gray-scale photo, minus two arms and his old coat of office. Kakashi wonders how different he must look to his sensei-- older, taller, his voice broken in, changed in all the ways Minato would never have gotten to see.

“You know,” Kakashi says, his words sending ripples through the silence that pooled between them. “I’m older than you now.”

“Are you?” Minato-sensei’s head tilts sharply, like a bird.

“By two years.” Kakashi flashes him the signs for _three-ten_. “So, I suppose I can be your senpai now, yes?”

Minato-sensei barks out a quick laugh, the sound ripping open old scars and healing old wounds.

“Not on your life, kid,” Minato-sensei grins, and his shoulder twitches, just a touch, before his face falls a little.

“You were going to ruffle my hair,” Kakashi observes.

Caught, Minato-sensei’s face hovers in the fragile moment between hurt and surprise, before settling for a sheepish expression. “You’re a lot sharper than I remember, Kakashi-kun,” he says, deflecting casually. “You used to be emotionally denser than a rock.”

Perhaps Kakashi’s been hanging around Naruto for too long. Unbidden, his own arm rises up in the air, hesitation making it awkward. Uncertainty rises up in Minato-sensei’s eyes.

“Kakashi-kun, I--”

Kakashi draws Minato-sensei up into a tight hug for the first time in his life, his arms wrapped around Minato’s shoulders. This close, he can ignore the wrong color of sensei’s eyes, the white paper flakes slowly peeling away from the chakra construct that Minato-sensei’s spirit is possessing, and soak in the warm chakra signature, like a sun-warmed breeze tugging playfully at his hair. 

“I grew up,” Kakashi says, simply, his breath tickling the curls on the nape of Minato’s neck. “Don’t apologize,” he cuts in, before Minato-sensei can draw air in to say something stupidly sentimental. “It’s alright. I understand.” 

Minato-sensei doesn’t have a real body, so he doesn’t really have lungs either, but he breathes raggedly all the same, the breath warm against Kakashi’s skin.

“I’m just glad we got to see each other again, sensei.”

Slowly, unwillingly, Kakashi untangles himself from Minato-sensei’s crumpling body. “I think that’s enough of me being selfish. You’ve got one more farewell to make before you go.” In the distance, Kakashi can see the spiky fringe of Naruto’s hair, so much like the one standing in front of him now. 

Minato-sensei gives him a long, considering look. “You did good,” he says at last, and Kakashi's spine stiffens with half-remembered pride, as if sensei is complimenting him on a particularly clever bit of knife-work. 

“I’ll be waiting for you, Kakashi-kun. We all will. Make sure it’s a long wait, alright?” 

Kakashi salutes back reflexively, fist over his steadily beating heart. “I promise, sensei.” 

Minato-sensei smiles back, for the last time. “‘I’ll hold you to that, soldier.”


End file.
